


Apostasie

by Antiaris, gnostic_heretic



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (hungary and lithuania respectively), Internalized Homophobia, Multi, Religious Guilt, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Unrequited Love, frying pangle but gay, sincore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 15:05:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14046882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antiaris/pseuds/Antiaris, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnostic_heretic/pseuds/gnostic_heretic
Summary: He knows, now he knows, what that feeling was- when he could smell the dirt on Hungary's skin, and his heart would beat in a mad dance, the holy symphony of love! Maybe, God had known all along.





	Apostasie

He stares at the boy's arms as he practices his swordfighting against a scarecrow.  
He watches as his hair, long and tied in a high ponytail, swishes with each one of his swings- golden brown glowing in the pale morning light.  
"Hungary", he calls him, and the youth turns around quickly.  
"Oh, it's _you_."  
Hungary's voice is cocky and annoying as usual, and Gilbert _absolutely can't stand it_. In fact, he can feel his own cheeks heating up, anger and adrenaline rushing through his veins and drawing his hand to his sword. "Yes, it's me. You're on my land again!"  
With a smirk, Hungary walks closer, and closer to him.  
"So what?"  
He's so close, if Gilbert extended his arm he could touch his neck. _Grab_ his neck. _Break_ his neck.  
"What are you going to do to me?"  
Hungary's nose is almost touching his own, now. Gilbert can smell him- he smells like dirt, sweat, iron. _Absolutely sickening, it makes his stomach twist._  
"I'm-", I'm going to kill you, "I'm going to chase you back to your land."  
Swift as a shadow, Hungary draws his dagger and takes his fighting stance. _En garde_. His hair sticks to his face, a sweaty, panting, flushed mess.  
"Make me."

* * *

 

When he spots Hungary walking down the narrow stairs of the tavern, Gilbert can barely believe what's in front of him.  
Long gone are the days of their adolescence, and now Hungary stands proud and strong, radiant and handsome, holding a young woman under his arm. Gilbert can tell that she's a _woman of business_ , as she immediately adjusts her dress to show even more cleavage and leaves Hungary to flirt with another customer. When he sees Gilbert, his face lights up with a smile.  
"Hey, it's you! May I take a seat?"  
Gilbert lets out an annoyed grunt, but he nods, holding the chair next to him for Hungary.  
"Well, 's been a long time."  
Hungary laughs, a hearty, loud laughter that makes Gilbert's throat knot- he slaps his back, and makes him almost spit out his beer. "You're _piss drunk_!"  
"I might be, yeah.", Gilbert replies, already regretting his choice to let _this guy_ talk to him again. If he's trying to shame him for the way he lives his life, he might as well shut the hell up.  
_Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?_  
"So Hungary, who's the _fair lady_ in your company? Are you going to marry her?"  
Hungary's jovial expression changes- Gilbert's words have struck a chord, apparently. "Oh, come on, don't give me the sermon now, I do what everybody else does."  
"Not everybody.", Gilbert says, staring intently at the stein of beer in his hands.  
"Wait, you mean you've _never_ \- oh my Lord, this is _hilarious_!"  
Hungary gets closer to him, _so close_ , just like when they were boys. "Does this mean you're a _virgin_?"  
"I mean, that _some of us_ actually live in a Godly way."  
Gilbert twitches as Hungary's breathe tickles his ear, and he feels a hand riding up his thigh.  
" _Do you wish to know what sin feels like?_ "  
Hungary's voice is a whisper, and Gilbert can't take it anymore- _not this, not now_ \- he kicks his stool away and throws his beer in Hungary's face.  
Everyone in the tavern is staring, astonished.  
" _Shut the hell up! I hate you, I hate you so much, always have, always will!_ "  
His words and steps are loud as thunder as he storms out of the damned place, walking away into the night. After a minute, he realizes he forgot to pay- _to hell with that_ , Hungary will pay for it. In every sense.

* * *

 

Everything had happened so quickly, and he was still in such a frenzy! Of all things, to find out that Hungary- _that_ Hungary, had been a woman all along! He tries not to think too much about the details: about _her_ nights with _women_ , and about how this came to happen at all.  
What matters now, the only thing that matters, is that he spent a whole week thinking about it, retired in prayer and meditation, asking God for guidance.  
And God answered his prayers.  
_Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh._  
One flesh!  
He knows, _now_ he knows, what that feeling was- when he could smell the dirt on Hungary's skin, and his heart would beat in a mad dance, the holy symphony of love! Maybe, God had known all along. He had put this burden on him, these feelings: his great plan for Gilbert, once a curse, now a blessing. He'd ask her to be his wife, and how could she ever refuse him?  
He walks steady, looking for her (and how good it feels, to think: _her_!) where he knows he can find her, where she used to practice her swordfight every day, now a beautiful garden of flowers and sculptures and water fountains. He spots her behind a tree, a pink carnation in her hair, and he knows he's ready to tell her everything. To ask her to become one flesh.  
"Hungary!"  
When she turns and looks at him, her face is glowing with love, her pink cheeks flushed.  
"Oh, it's... it's you, Teutonic... I mean, _Prussia_. What are you doing here?"  
She stumbles on her words, shy and _feminine_ as he has never seen her. The beautiful dress she's wearing is the color of sunsets and gold, and suits her complexion so much -although, Gilbert thinks, in his memory still burns the picture of her in tunic and leggings, showing off her toned calves and shoulders, her ponytail waving in the breeze... memories, pictures from a far-away past that they shall leave behind from now on.  
"I'm here to talk to you, of course!"  
"Yeah, right."  
Hungary chuckles, avoiding Prussia's gaze, looking into the far off distance, beyond the horizon. "If you don't mind, could we talk another time? I have... _company_."  
"Company?"  
When Gilbert sees Roderich coming forward, he almost gags. _Him_ , the last person he would have expected; he had no idea that Austria was into women at all, _married in sin_ as he had been with Spain before. And he seemed to enjoy it, to top it all off, and now- now he was pursuing _Hungary_ , of all people?  
"I'm sorry, Prussia. If it's a urgent matter, I will leave the two of you."  
As Roderich speaks, almost too quiet, too collected, he moves his hand to Hungary's shoulder. Gilbert is pissed off. He can feel it, the _anger_ , the need to fight- once again, looking into Roderich's eyes, his stomach twists in utter _disgust_ , a familiar feeling, warm and sickening.  
He had never thought of him that way before: he had always annoyed him, the fop, with his mannerism and aura of snobbishness he could never stand. But now, he's sure, something between them has changed irredeemably, forever.

* * *

 

Among the columns of the ballroom, richly decorated with acanthus ornaments and the pink veins of colored marble, majestic Hungary stands, head of her own country and now consort wife of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.  
A kaftan tunic and harem pants hide and disguise her figure, a modern and fashionable look far from the dresses she used to wear a few years before, tight to the point of being uncomfortable and large to the point of being inconvenient. An eastern inspiration, a call from faraway lands that her clothes share with those of her _company_.  
A familiar sight that takes Gilbert back to the past, the low moments of a golden era of glory and gore.  
Leaning on the column in front of her is a young woman, in the artificial light of one of the brand-new electric lamps. She smiles at Hungary, her lips thin and tinted in red. She bats her long, black eyelashes and swings her arms over Hungary's shoulders. The blue silk of her kimono sleeves swings with her.

_Es liegt eine Krone im tiefen Rhein,_  
_Gezaubert von Gold und von Edelstein;_  
_Und wer sie erhebet von tiefem Grund,_  
_Den krönt man zu Aachen in selbiger Stund..._

The deep voice of the singer is giving Gilbert a migraine, as he watches Hungary disappear into a nearby room and her _company_ with her, blue dress and high heels fading in the darkness.  
All around him he hears the whispers of people: they blame socialism, the death of God, the turn of the century.  
_Things were different back then_.

How stupid is that? Gilbert knows that, if anything, nothing has changed. Nothing has changed at all... he grabs another drink, a strong liquor he has never tasted before, and he wanders around the room to look for Austria. Certainly, he has to know that his wife is cheating on him right under his eyes; he must have heard the rumors, and now he can prove him that they are indeed reality.

_Gehörte dies Herz_  
_An dem Rheine mir,_  
_Ich gäbe die Krone,_  
_Die Leier dafür..._

When he finally spots Austria he is not in the crowd, but hidden in a corner. He also has _company_ : a short, blond man that Prussia can swear he has seen before. However, he cannot recall his name- the alcohol is clouding his thoughts, and he feels hot and dizzy and _sick_ as Austria's eyes finally meet his.  
"Roderich, we have to talk.", he says, and Austria clearly expresses his annoyance with a sigh.  
"What is the matter? Is it so urgent it cannot wait?"  
"Yes, it is. _Your wife_ is out there _cheating_ on you."  
As Gilbert says that, Austria's face becomes pale. He quickly dismisses his company to take Gilbert to a quiet balcony, far away from the music and smoke and the hundreds of ears and tongues ready to prey on every bit of gossip they could find.  
"Gilbert, how many people saw?"  
He shrugs and takes another sip of liquor. "I don't know. But everyone was talking about it."  
Austria bites his lower lip. Gilbert has never seen him this nervous before.  
"Goddamn it, _Erzsébet_ , I've told her so many times to at least be sneaky!"  
"Wait, Austria! What do you mean, sneaky? You knew about this?"  
Austria looks at him in disbelief. "Yes, yes, of course I know. She has her _inclinations_ , I have mine; she has her _affections_ , and I have mine. But if the voice gets out that our marriage is a farce, it could cause political instability. And trust me, right now it's the last thing we need, with the riots and strikes we are facing..."  
" _Austria_ ", Gilbert interrupts, "did you not marry her for _love_? Then what did you want! Did you marry her for her lands? For politics? For wealth?"  
Austria nods, and his deadpan as he admits to this makes Gilbert want to throw up. He knew that Roderich did not love her, _could not_ love her, from day one he had always known!  
"Of course, Gilbert. We are _nations_ , and marriage is a contract, an exchange. It's better to learn that the burdens of our heavy humanness are better kept out of this matter. Especially when love is, for me and Erzsébet alike, something we can not pursue in the light of day."  
"She is not like you." Prussia's voice is shaking, a whisper. _I am not like you_.  
"She is, and you know it. You just saw her with that young woman, did you not?"  
"It's different."  
"It's not."  
The silence is heavy and burning cold, and only the muffled sound of the violins and chatting comes from the closed windows behind them. It's Austria that tries to break the ice, placing a hand on Prussia's shoulder.  
"Gilbert, I know how you feel about Hungary, and I know how you feel about our marriage. But she would not love you, the same way she cannot love me... I'd tell you to go and date her, now, but I know she would reject you."  
"You don't know _shit_." Gilbert spits on the ground, earning a disgusted look from Roderich. "You've never known shit."  
"I know more than you think."  
"Then", Prussia mutters under his breath, heavy with liquor and rage, " _then kiss me_. If you have such inclinations, then at least I can have you."  
He watches as Austria's jaw drops, and hears the string of excuses that follow- _I'm sorry, I don't see you in that way, I already have someone else I hold dear_ \- he watches, and hears, but he is not there.  
He is not there as he walks back into the ballroom, under the marble columns to get another glass of this, whatever this is. He sits at the bar and drinks as much as he can, trying to forget what he just did, what he just said. Clearly, there must be some sort of mistake. _I am not like them._  
It is then that someone familiar takes the seat next to him, and asks for a drink. A familiar sight, a face that takes Gilbert back to his golden age of glory, blood and war, when him and Lithuania would fight and bicker all the time in the name of their Gods.

* * *

 

The memories of the night passed are nothing but a blur, the distant impression of a satanic rhapsody, the ache and burn of scratches and bites that Lithuania left on his back, like an animal, like a _wolf_. The taste of blood and sin.  
When he sits up, he sees the same man that _did this to him_  quietly humming as he pours coffee into a mug.  
"G'morning."  
Lithuania turns suddenly, and looks at him. His eyes scream _regret_.  
"Good morning, Prussia. I've cleaned up your kitchen, and I made coffee. Want some?"  
"No, thanks. I'll pour myself a glass of water instead..."  
Gilbert watches Lithuania's body as he moves, traces a map of it in his mind. The deep scars on his chest, the lighter ones on his back. He's strong, but slender, muscles that come from labour and years spent in the fields rather than military training. There's something about him that summons back old sensations, old thoughts. He can't even remember Lithuania's name- _Tolvydas?_ , but the shape of his body is familiar. Memories of those moments when Gilbert would watch him, the heathen, as he ran through the forest with his people. The adrenaline of waiting for the next fight, when their bodies would finally meet again, clashing and clawing and _touching_ -

  
"I can't believe I've been so stupid all along."  
Gilbert did not mean to say that out loud, but alas. Lithuania places a glass of water on his nightstand, raising an eyebrow. "I beg you pardon?"  
"Lithuania, do you believe in God?"  
The man gives him a _look_ , and Gilbert grins. "You don't have to answer."  
"Then I'll pass."  
"Good, _great_. You know, Lithuania! Maybe you were right, after all."  
Lithuania does not answer.  
"About this night", he finally says, after a moment of silence, "Prussia, let's... let's forget it, shall we? I was drunk, you were drunk. It was a mistake."  
"Yes, sure. I won't tell a soul."  
It burns, the humiliation of knowing that Lithuania does not want to hide that he's slept with a man- Prussia knows what _pagans_ did and what Lithuania _still does_ , and his marriage with Poland!  
Everyone knows, but somehow it seems that Prussia, specifically, is what he wants to hide from the world, men and gods and nations.  
And how could he blame him? Gilbert knows his own past, and his own mistakes.  
And he knows that, probably, this was the right mistake. The best he's ever made.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my God, look what I have done. Me, of all people, writing... this?  
> I am so busy right now, and I can't even say I like Prussia as a character, nor that I like PruHun, which is probably the main ship in this... fic about Prussia, his own denial of being a closeted gay man, his sad romantic woes, and so on... and yet, here we are? I wrote this on a whim, and I 100% blame my boyfriend for planting this idea into my mind.  
> (That's why he is credited as a co-creator. You dirty scoundrel, you. >:T)  
> Hopefully, someone out there will appreciate this. Thank you to everyone who is reading, as usual! :D


End file.
